


Hole

by Wandering_Swain



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dildos, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Genderbending, M/M, NO KIDS ALLOWED, Peter is a bisexual and slutty not slutty because he's bisexual, Pussyboy, Sexual Harassment, Yondu is the worst surrogate dad, boys with vaginas, gender feels, sluts in space, trans feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Swain/pseuds/Wandering_Swain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to the Immunity-Pro©, off-brand, anti-space radiation capsules Peter takes, his private parts change shape once a month for one week. </p><p>It doesn't impact much about his space faring life, really, except for the people he sleeps with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No beta reader so all mistakes my own.

The first time Peter went to the medical bay of his own volition, he was fifteen (maybe sixteen) and needed to yell at someone about his pussy. 

He pulled down his pants in front of the doctor and pointed at the triangle of curly pubic hair. “The fuck is this?”

She glanced at him and took a drag of the cigar in her mouth, which was rolled with leaves from a jungle planet rather than tobacco. She blew the most bored smoke ring he had ever seen. “Your reproductive organs?”

“Uh, no, not MY reproductive organs, because otherwise there would be a pecker here!” 

“An outer sexual organ, you mean?”

“Yes!”

“As opposed to?”

“A vagina! I shouldn’t have this!”

The medic put out her cigar in the ash tray she kept beside the oxygen tanks. “We can stop at the next planet for gender re-assignment surgery. Best of luck getting the money from the captain, of course.”

“I had a cock yesterday!”

She didn’t blink. “Did you just start on Immunity-Pro© capsules?” 

He stared at her. “Yeah. Why?”

“Ah. Get in the stirrups.”

He looked over at the foam green chair in the corner, the metal foot stirrups disconcertingly rusted.

They were also, he noted, cold.

It turned out the off-brand star flare radiation immunity drugs Peter had switched to—guaranteed to ward off cancers through chromosomal therapy and to lengthen your life—caused “physical and hormonal changes” in .001% of users. Terrans made up exactly 0% of that test group, but the medic didn’t seem overly concerned about that.

“Give it a week and your hormones and physical body should re-balance.” She ran a gloved finger over his labia, which caused Peter to shiver. It didn’t feel good but it didn’t feel bad, either. “Barring any race-specific cycle changes relating to this genitalia, you should have your parts back the way they were before long. Know of anything like that?”

Peter didn’t. “I can’t have babies or anything, right?”

“You can’t have babies the other way, either. You’re a different species than anyone else in this quadrant.” She went back to her cigar and told Peter to grab his pants on the way out.

“I usually prefer dinner first.” He tested out a wink on her. He was trying to figure out how to flirt and had discovered it was much harder than Han Solo made it look. It was almost as if Han Solo wasn’t the expert flirt Peter had assumed he was.

She didn’t look up. “Don’t forget vegetables. Avoid scurvy. Kraglin is close to contracting that.”

Peter discovered that, as predicted, his cock came back. His clit, which he was too afraid to mess with, grew fatter and more elongated near the end of the week. The labial folds which seemed so strange grew into a sack once more. He squeezed them a couple times a day to make sure. Even the hole closed up. It was back the way it was.

Then he forgot about it, mostly. Being a Ravager was distracting. He had cargo to move and a hull to scrape free of growths. There were shoot-outs with rival scavengers at drop-off points. His medicine messing with his body chemistry wasn’t overly important now that it was fixed. His cock was important, but so was making sure no one took his blaster or his Walkman.

A month later, the pussy was back. His cock had shrunk gradually—he had noticed a few times and then immediately been distracted after—and was a clit again.

He kicked open the medic’s door, unbuckled his belt, and then noticed Kraglin was sitting with the medic.

“Hey, Pete.” Kraglin looked bored.

The medic looked unhappy. “Yes?” 

Peter rushed to keep his pants up, face red. “The thing we talked about last month? It’s back.”

“Did it disappear last time?”

“Yeah?”

“See if it disappears again and then come back to me.”

Peter ran.

He went to his hammock in the barracks, buried his face in his pillow, and tried to pretend very hard he wasn’t crying. He was frustrated and scared. If the medic told Kraglin, he would go to the rest of the crew, and they would say he wasn’t a man. He wondered if he would get his parts back to where they were again or if he would just have a pubic mound covered in dark hair for the rest of his life. He figured getting his cock back was a fluke. 

Gripped by fear, Peter checked his pussy. He pulled down his underwear and spread his thighs. Gently, he eased back the lips. He slid his fingertip along his clit, which felt pretty good to be honest, and then along his hole. Where did he pee from? He pressed his finger against the little nub of skin repeatedly, letting his legs falls apart further. Soon, he pushed inside the opening and grunted. It was tight! He pulled out. After a moment, he pushed in again greedily.

“Stop shaking your damn hammock,” murmured another Ravager, a man who immediately went back to snoring.

Peter let out a huff of breath and, as far as he could tell, came. It was like with a cock, really, but it felt different with no thick, white come afterward to wipe away. Just a clear fluid.

Curious, he licked it off his fingers. It tasted kind of like salt but reminded him, strangely, of milk. He shuddered because it tasted good.

And he felt great.

He slept that night and the nights after with a pillow between his legs, rubbing up against him. When his cock grew back, he was almost (though not quite) sorry.

If Kraglin knew anything, he didn’t seem overly interested in telling the rest of the crew.

*** 

There were reminders before his pussy grew back every month. If he shaved, his beard would grow more slowly and thinly. His nipples felt tender though never grew into breasts, which either meant they were unaffected by the hormone changes or that he was a solid A-cup.

The once-monthly change became normal. It was like eating food out of a toothpaste tube, sleeping in the same room with a bunch of people, or reloading a gun.

It didn’t much affect Peter’s sex life, at least not the rate with which he ended up getting it on. He was already unique because he was Terran. He explained it as a sort of molting which didn’t much bother strangers with slippery, tentacle’d space junk and drenched, origami-folded nethers.

Besides, he rarely slept with the same person twice.

“Oh! You look like me!” The first time someone saw his pussy, she was pleased as hell. She was a Xandarian girl and she ran a finger over his clit like a pro. “Except this part! It’s so cute!” She kissed it and Peter was all sighs and blushed skin. They spent hours exploring and it was all very romantic and comfortable. Afterward, she tried to convert him to the Universal Church of Truth. “I’ve been so happy since I took my vows as a nun.”

“You’re married to God?”

“I’m married to truth which is why I will very truthfully tell the Mother Superior I’ve been out attempting to convert the wicked.” Then she kissed him goodbye.

Next time someone saw his pussy, it was an agendered Gramosian. They kissed Peter urgently and asked if they could invade him with their fingers. Peter was too lightheaded to care as the being did just that and then pressed their outward sexual organ inside him.

During, he was excited and slick. “Harder!” he told them and they complied excitedly, blindly.

It hurt the next morning. Peter stole an ice pack from the medical bay. It had been abandoned when the medic left to go back to her own planet. Now the Ravagers just raided it for supplies.

Still, whatever positive feeling he now had toward his sex parts, Peter felt embarrassed talking about it. His pussy was, well, his. 

The week he didn’t have a cock each month, he tried to shower when as few Ravagers were using it as possible. Sometimes, he skipped showering, period. Everyone could tell when he did, though, because he was big, tall, and still sweat when he was nervous. 

Yondu specifically couldn’t stand it when Peter was on the bridge. One day, he rolled his eyes in front of everyone and said, “Dhast it, do all Terrans smell like the inside of a shoe when they skip a cleaning? Get to the showers, boy.”

Peter usually whined a bit at him and did it anyway. Today, he looked the Centaurian up and down, winked, and said, “Gonna have to make me.”

He fully expected one of his ears pulled or maybe a good thwack across the head. Yondu wasn’t a particularly peaceful surrogate dad.

Instead, Yondu laughed. “What, you want me to throw you in there?”

“Yup.”

“Can’t do it yourself?”

“Nah. You have a private shower in your quarters. Why you never want to use the crews’ shower?”

“Captain privileges come with being a captain.”

“I think you think you’re too good to shower with us.”

Some “oohs” from the bridge.

“That ain’t true.” Yondu sounds odd. Defensive.

“Then why not have me in your shower, too?” Peter blushed as the full meaning of what he said hit. Some of the Ravagers around them looked sheepish. Because, really, he had meant to say, “Have me in your shower at a different time than you. Share your shower, man.” But maybe that hadn’t been what he meant at all. All the people he had been fucking lately was making him feel more confident.

Yondu turned away and grinned. “You just flirt with everyone these days. Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Can’t help myself.”

“Then go over to my cabin and wash. I ain’t gonna stop you.”

Feeling damn proud of himself, the crew whistling as he left, Peter did just that. It hit him while he was lathering up in the shower that maybe Yondu would come back, fully expecting that they were going to fuck. The idea seemed weird. He thought of Yondu’s bristled, blue chin, his crooked smile. What expression would he make if Peter gave him head? What did his cock look like? What did it taste like?

Okay, it seemed hot and filthy. And good.

After toweling off, Peter put his shirt and pants back on. He roamed around Yondu’s room, unsure if he would come back soon or what his expectations would be when he did. He became nervous. He found Yondu’s trunk of knives and began to look through them, frowning. Some were sharper than others and some had two-pronged blades.

“I’m a collector,” Yondu said. 

Peter turned. He hadn’t heard him come in. “I’ve never seen you with them when we’re doing raids or transportation goes wrong.” 

“’Course not, boy. They’re my collection. I ain’t going to ruin them. They’re antique.”

Peter put the knife he was holding down carefully.

Yondu stopped him, sidling on up and taking his hand. “You like it?”

“Yeah.” Peter’s heart thumped. It was stupid, but damn, he was hungry for this.

“I got a lot.”

“Yeah? What else you packing?” Peter reached for Yondu’s pants, pressing his fingers against the top button.

Yondu snorted and pulled his hand away. “We’re not doing it like that.” 

“We’re not?”

“No. See, I’m the captain and you’re one of my crew, right?”

“Right.”

“And I look at you, you know, and I know we have an imbalance built into our relationship. I give you an order and you follow it, right?”

Peter found himself resentful. “I don’t have to.”

“Mmm. No, you don’t.” Yondu looked him up and down with approval. “But there’s the pressure to follow it though, isn’t there? Or the idea that if you’re not following it, you’re above the other crew, right?”

“They’ll figure out we’re fucking.”

“Boy, they already know we’re doing that. You saw them on deck, looking at us sizing each other up.”

Peter hadn’t felt he was sizing up Yondu, but then his captain pressed a hand to his cheek. Kissed him. Where his lips pressed Peter’s, it felt tender. Every atom responded to the texture of his mouth. Then a tongue slipped inside him, sliding along his own.

Softly, Peter moaned into that kiss.

Yondu pulled back. “You want it.”

Peter wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Then like I said, we’re going to do this carefully, okay? In this room, we’re equals. Just for a bit.” Yondu sunk right down to his knees in front of Peter.

The sight was too much, seeing that man look up at him like he was a masterpiece. 

Then he slid down Peter’s pants and underwear. He squinted at Peter’s triangle of curls, looked up at him, and then back down. “Didn’t you have a pecker here?”

Peter bit his lip. He had to own this. It was the only way it was going to happen if it was going to happen it all. He pulled up his shirt part way, revealing his nipples, and then reached down to spread his pussy lips apart with two fingers to show off his clit. “Do you need me to show you what to do with it?”

Yondu’s eyes widened. “Did you have surgery to change it?”

“Nah,” said Peter. “It’s just my medication. Changes the way it looks, sometimes. It’s just my cunt, is all. What, it doesn’t look good to you?” He withdrew his fingers and gave a small smile.

Yondu stopped his hand. “Open yourself up again. I want to see the meat inside you.”

“Meat?”

“Your soft insides. Come on. Let’s see it.”

It sounded like an order to Peter, but hell, he wasn’t complaining. Putting the edge of his shirt in his mouth, Peter reached down to spread his pussy with both hands.

Yondu breathed out, jagged and rough. “Oh, honey. It’s like pink silk. It’s looking shiny.”

Peter felt satisfied at that. He took a finger and pressed it inside him, showing Yondu where he could fit his cock.

But the captain choked. “No, no, no! You ain’t got to do that.”

He didn’t stop before he fit his finger inside and then pushed in another. He extracted them, all wet.

Yondu was in a state of wonder. “Didn’t hurt?”

Peter shook his head.

“Kind of elastic up there, huh? Women back home—my home, you understand—their bits take a while to open up.” Yondu rested a hand on his thigh. Squeezed it. “You have to court them something sweet before you open up their thighs and then stretch them out all careful even to include a finger.”

Peter would have happily pointed out he wasn’t a woman until Yondu pressed his own slender digit inside him. He closed his eyes and rolled back his head. He felt feverish.

“Terrans are all self-lubricating, huh? Mm-mm-mmm. Y’all must be at it all the time, huh?” He pushed in another finger. “No wonder you never hit the space age.”

Rolling his hips, Peter managed to impale himself on that hand.

“Do it sweet for me, boy. Fuck your slut self on my hand. Yeah.” Yondu’s voice became a rasp as he handled him. “Take that damn shirt out of your mouth. I want you to sing.” 

Peter panted. “Will you fuck me?”

Yondu looked up at him, considering. He withdrew those fingers slowly. “I want to show you my other collection.”

It was not knives.

“Holy fuck.” Peter picked up a three foot dildo that tapered to a narrow tip. “Are these molds of other alien junk?”

“Not all of them,” said Yondu. “That one is, though. Slug beast cock. It’s to scale. I use it on partners and they go crazy.”

It slipped out of Peter’s hands.

Yondu grabbed it. “Of course real slug beats wouldn’t dream of fucking anyone you or me shaped, not unless we were smeared with their hormones.”

“It’s just a fantasy, then?” 

“It is.” Yondu leaned close. “Mind showing me yours?”

“My fantasy? Fucking you.”

“Yeah, but I want to see how you like it.” Yondu handed him a cock with a spongy head that would have been nearly Terran if not for the ridged spine. “I want you to give me a show.”

Peter undressed immediately, impatiently. He lay down on the bed—a real bed, not a hammock—and watched Yondu take up residence in the chair. The captain straddled it backwards, and something about that was remarkably hot. 

He wished he had been drinking the way he did the last couple times. Truthfully, that and persistent horniness had been his main allies. When he spread his legs, though, he heard Yondu give a tight sigh. 

Peter slid the first cock in, which was maybe four inches and thin, and began to pump. He played with his clit, too. He had to show Yondu where it was. Some of his partners had forgotten or hadn’t cared and that hadn’t been very fun at all.

Yondu didn’t move to take his cock out as he watched Peter go.

Peter tried harder. He lifted one leg up and pulled it back for a better look. He gave a wink and chose a larger cock, one that was ribbed. It was a lot thicker and Peter grunted when he pushed it inside. He felt a little dizzy, too. It had gone in quick.

Yondu watched him.

It was sort of like how a lion would look an antelope. Hungry. But his gaze also reminded Peter of the deer that used to show up on the edge of Grandpa’s property. They were braver with all the people around them in houses, would even root through the trash if given half a chance, but they didn’t come close during daylight hours. They just regarded Peter distantly.

Peter wasn’t sure if Yondu wanted to devour him or run away.

He made the executive decision not to encourage the latter.

Rather than goad Yondu into coming on over, the way he would do with just about any other partner, Peter moaned and tried to lose himself to fucking his pussy. His slickness began to spill out between his thighs. The closer he came to climaxing, the more he realized it was likely he would be masturbating himself to completion rather than having Yondu touch him again. 

The thought was disappointing. It threw Peter off his rhythm. 

“Stop,” said Yondu.

Peter did.

“Flip over, sweetheart.”

Peter couldn’t have moved faster if he tried. He got up on all fours.

“No, boy. Just flat on your stomach. Yeah, there. Like that, darling.”

His face went pink. He was prone on the bed, body flat. He didn’t even raise his head up to look back. He could hear Yondu moving about but he couldn’t figure out what he was doing.

Peter felt a warm hand on his back. Body heat rose from Yondu. He hoped that meant he was turned on.

Yondu climbed onto the bed, letting it buckle briefly under his weight. “Spread your legs a little, won’t you?”

Feeling hot, Peter bit his lip and did so.

“You’re so sweet and easy. Hell.” Yondu gave a dry laugh. He straddled Peter. He was clothed, but Peter felt a length of cool cock pressed against his inner thigh. “Don’t turn around, baby. Close your eyes. Focus. Tell me if I go too fast, too slow. I want to see how far to push you, but know what? If I push you too far, this ain’t going to work.”

Peter wondered if Yondu meant that his cock was that big. Or maybe he was talking about captain/crew relations again.

Yondu’s cockhead hit the entrance to Peter’s cunt. “Sweetness,” he murmured and pushed in like Peter was made of butter.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it filled Peter immediately. Maybe it was sort of curved? He didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure if Yondu’s junk was as blue as the rest of him.

Yondu answered in kind, fucking him and holding his down. He pushed in further and leaned down, breathing right into Peter’s ear. “You’re something, you know that?”

Peter managed a grunt. “Y-yeah?”

“A sweet something.” Yondu rolled his hips. “You say you don’t always have a pussy?”

“No?”

“I want you back here when you do.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to fuck it. I want to fuck you. I want to have you.” 

Peter made a sound he’d never made before. 

“I want every bit of you to be mine. Your body, your heart, your sweet ass.” Here, Yondu gave him a vicious spank to his thigh, because he was all class. “I want to own you. Can I have you, boy? Can I own you?” Yondu jack-knifed into him, pushing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

That cock was splitting Peter clean open. He bore down on it, squeezed his pussy, mouth open. He couldn’t answer. His eyes rolled back in his head and he began to push back on Yondu. “You already do.”

Yondu smiled against the back of Peter’s neck. He kissed his nape.

Peter came.

It was pretty great after that. Yondu only asked for Peter to come by when he was in full pussy form. Being called a “slut” and “my boy” felt forbidden and adult. Yondu rarely fucked him and, even then, usually had him turn around. It was a sort of reward, Peter guessed, though he was too afraid to ask for what.

Yondu seemed to prefer eating Peter out, anyway. He laved his tongue across his clit for what seemed like hours. Combined with a thick toy from his collection, Peter was an absolute puddle under him.

They began to take day trips.

Peter was taken to a planet that had long ago been swarmed by a many-tentacled, world-sized intelligence. Locals gave them a sort of drugged, mushroom tea. In a drunken stupor, Peter and Yondu were fucked by the tentacles. Peter recalled kissing Yondu as they were bound together but not, specifically, how they had gotten there.

There was the time at the whorehouse on a soft, gray pleasure moon, surrounded by pink, green, blue, and purple undulating bodies. Yondu disappeared half way through the evening.

Once, Yondu made the crew leave the showers so he could eat Peter out beneath a stream of hot water just because he could.

Sure, he still treated him like the rest of the crew most of the time—Yondu whacked him on his head when he did something dumb or punched him when he was being a punk—but it was there. It was something. It was dumb, but it was hot and theirs.

“He’s using you,” said Kraglin.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“He done it to me, he’s doing it to you.” 

“We’re having fun.”

“His fun is more important than your fun.” 

That didn’t matter. Yondu didn’t give a goddamn who or what Peter got his rocks off with when they weren’t bumping uglies, long as he didn’t catch something. It had its tense and awkward moments, sure, but in its own way, it was Heaven.

Just about everyone else on the crew gave him a hell of a time. He was a brown noser at worst and a captain’s wife at best. Peter swapped black eyes with the mechanic.

“My cute slut keeps shooting off his mouth,” Yondu said in his (their) cabin, putting an ice compact on Peter’s swollen eye.

“I didn’t!”

“Don’t matter none, sugar. I can do with you as I like.”

Somewhere in there, it began to get less fun for Peter. The “my slut” thing was a game, right? Yondu had said so. He didn’t go out of his way to bring it back up, though, as if he had changed his mind.

He also didn’t let Peter touch him without his permission. Yondu was the one who held him down or propped him up or licked or sucked. He certainly wasn’t the one who got fucked.

Peter decided to ask one night. Coming out of the shower, he dropped his towel, and came up behind the captain while he sat at his desk. He hugged him. “How you doing, sir?”

“Just fine, cutie.” Yondu smiled. He prodded the log file a bit, going down a list of cargo.

“You look stressed. Mind if I help?”

Yondu laughed. “You sound like one of those prostitutes on the casino planet.”

Peter attempted a grin but it felt false. That had been funnier about a month ago. “I ain’t.”

“I know, sugar, I know.” 

Relieved, he planted a kiss on the captain’s cheek. “Let me be sweet for you, then, okay?” Then he slid his hand down the front of Yondu’s pants.

Yondu stood up so fast, he clipped Peter’s nose.

Peter fell backwards. “Aw, what the fuck, man?” Peter held his nose. It hurt like hell. Sure enough, there was some blood leaking out.

“You idiot! You know I hate that!” 

Peter sputtered. “When did you specify you hated your junk being fondled?”

Yondu thumped Peter with his foot, nose broken or not. “Take my word for it.”

Peter stood to his full height. “Listen, you said we were equal, right?” 

“Yeah. And as your equal, I don’t like being touched there none.”

Peter fucking lost it. “Maybe I don’t like everything we do, either!”

“What? What don’t you like?”

Peter had to think. He didn’t know how to say it right. “You call me slut sometimes like you mean I ain’t anything but.”

“You know you’re more, idiot.”

“You call me names.”

“I call everyone names.”

“And for all that shit about us being equals, you tend to be the only one calling the shots. Whatever we got isn’t any kind of functional relationship.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause it ain’t nothing!”

Peter froze. “I know that.” 

“You’re going on like it’s something.”

“Respect is the bare minimum here, okay? Bare minimum. I love fucking. It’s great. But you need to be honest with me.”

“And all I’m saying you let someone call you a ‘slut.’ Why are you surprised to be treated like one?”

The mature thing to do would have been to grab his things and leave, cut off fucking completely. Maybe even leave the damn ship because he was being a fucker. Instead, Peter lunged at Yondu and tried to wallop him.

Yondu’s knuckles hit him right on back.

They wrestled on the floor and it was a bloody, drooly, angry wrestling match, not the sexy, huffing kind.

Eventually, exhausted, Yondu called a truce.

“You fucked this up,” Peter hissed between his teeth, which were covered in blood.

“We fucked this up,” Yondu insisted.

“But mostly you.”

Yondu didn’t respond.

A month later, him and Yondu kind of, sort of, mostly made up over drinks. They decided they didn’t work too well together as fuck buddies. Some time after that, Peter got the Milano and left the crew.

Peter carried around a great deal of hurt over the entire thing. His feelings toward the relationship grew more nuanced, more complex as he got older and realized just how much shit he had taken through the whole thing.

Certainly, he wouldn’t let anyone treat him the way Yondu had, not because it wasn’t hot or hadn’t turned his crank at the time. No. Just, you know, later he realized that it kind of sucked to be called a slut unless he knew for sure they were playing around. Also, being held down and taken from behind lost its flavor.

He had good lovers, too, ones that reacted to his pussy like it was a miracle and romanced his cock or were just plain sweet with him.

He was at a bar on a space port near Centauri IV when he met another member of the Zatoan. Like Yondu, she was blue, a little rough, and smiled in that dark, flirtatious way. Peter became invested in talking to her.

“If you’re looking to be fucked, I can’t do that,” she said shyly. “My encounters have been disappointing with non- Centaurians.” 

Peter snorted into his drink. “Yeah? Why? Y’all beat each other up when you fuck? I was with a guy for a while that was from your tribe.” 

She looked relieved. “So you know?”

“They’re all defensive assholes about it?” 

“No, about non-complimentary genitals.” She frowned at him. “The Zatoan mating practices are difficult because of how specifically they’re shaped.” 

Peter leaned close. “The one I met was specifically shaped like a motherfucker.”

They laughed and continued talked for the rest of the evening. It was an enlightening conversation. As per her wishes, he did not go home with her nor she with him.

Peter contacted Kraglin, though, and confirmed what the woman had told him about Yondu.

“He has a strap on,” Kraglin said. “Wears it around his waist. I never let him use it on me, though.” 

He planned on bringing it up with Yondu himself next time he saw him, but that next time became when he stole the Orb and they were at each other’s throats. Then the Guardians happened to Peter and Ronan happened (or nearly happened) to Xandar.

Then he got four roommates of various species who he had to fit in a fairly claustrophobic M-class ship.

He was busy.

Rocket intercepted a message  one day. He was on piloting duty and Peter was vacuuming the cockpit. “Peter, you got yourself a drunk message.”

“You can read it out loud.” 

Rocket made a face. “No thanks. How about I just delete it?”

“What’s it say?”

Rocket showed him.

Even Peter’s translator implant didn’t glean much within that word salad beyond, “Miss that warm pussy hole a yours.”

“You and Captain Mohawk used to fuck?” Rocket looked disgusted. 

Peter knew lying wouldn’t work, here. “Yeah.”

“Then is he talking about…your mouth?” Rocket tried. “I don’t know, your ass?”

Peter flushed. He dropped his voice. If anyone else in the Milano heard, they would start poking him with questions. “Uh, you know how most men in this sector have outward junk?”

“Yeah?” Rocket looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Once a month, it goes sort of inward for me.”

“Oh wow. That’s not the anti-radiation medicine, is it?”

Peter was surprised. “How’d you know?”

“They pop ant-rad meds over on Galador because it changes their anatomy. You probably can’t get pregnant from fucking, right?”

Peter now disliked this conversation. “Well, no. I’m a different species.”

Gamora showed up in the cockpit with her toothbrush. “The water heater might be broken.”

“I’ll fix it.” Rocket looked smug. “Just talking to Peter about his sometimes-vagina that Yondu used to stick his dick in.”

“Dude!” 

Gamora spent a moment parsing that sentence. “I can see that.”

“What?” 

“Not literally, of course.”

“Oh.” 

“My assumption is that it was an ill-advised relationship that began with sex and ended violently, of course,” said Gamora. “You both have a violent relationship where chemistry is an important aspect. What’s a sometimes-vagina?”

Peter was forced to explain, enraged as Rocket left the cockpit to go take a look at the heater like it was no big thing. Like both his pussy and relationship with his pseudo-father figure weren’t unique. 

Gamora was interested in his physical changes but otherwise unphased. “You have switched medication since, I suspect?”

“A few times? Dunno. It’s become less regular. Less once a month and more, like, a few times a year?” 

“Interesting.”

“But you’re not surprised about Yondu?”

Gamora sat with her hands folded in her lap. “Nebula and I shared a lot of difficult times together.”

“Her and you? No!”

“Yes. It was borne out of desperation for, well, I’m not sure. Solace.”

“It was probably kind of hot to hate-fuck too, right?”

She nodded quickly. “We pushed each other into walls a lot. And grunted.” 

“It feels amazing, right?”

Gamora looked relieved. “Even knowing it’s unhealthy is hot, as if you’re somehow controlling a storm while inside it.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.” Peter showed her the message. “Can you answer something for me?”

She hesitated. “I can try.”

“Why the hell am I tempted by this? It’s stupid and we had a fucked up relationship.”

“It is.” Gamora considered it carefully. “But this message is suggestively graphic. Also, he’s shown you a vulnerable piece of himself. You feel as if you can draw it out and understand him better.”

“But it’d be stupid to go to him and fuck him, right?”

“Very, but I understand why you wish to do so.” She read through the message again. “What does, ‘Fuck hot sweetness slow up down with fattest cock’ mean? It’s very close to a sentence.” 

Drax poked his head in. “What’s hot sweetness and why would you put one’s member inside it?”

He just looked at the message and considered.

Peter plucked up the courage to call. Yondu’s response wasn’t encouraging. He cringed on the vid-screen. “Oh, damn it.”

“You contacted me.” Peter tried not to be huffy about it and failed.

“Why did you call back? I was drunk.” Yondu’s eyes were blood shot. He looked hung over.

Peter didn’t owe this man shit. He had been awful.

He also looked ashamed. Maybe even lonely as his eyes rested on Peter. 

Fuck.

“I met a woman from the Zatoan a while back at a bar,” said Peter. “We had a long conversation. I talked with Kraglin, too.”

Yondu didn’t move. His eyes flicked away from Peter to look, he suspected, to see if anyone else was around. Finally: “I bet you suspected beforehand, huh?”

Peter nodded. “I wondered. I didn’t push.”

“You were pushing that last night between the two of us, weren’t you?” 

“I wanted to get close to you.”

Yondu took a deep breath in through his nose, nostrils flaring. “How close? How much do you want to know? Everything?”

“I wanted to know more, that’s all,” said Peter.

“Oh.”

“I have a few hours until I rendezvous with the Ravagers,” said Peter. “I want you to meet me when I do. And I want to go back to your room.”

Yondu did not question or fight him on it. He just nodded and turned off the screen.

It’s messier, Peter thought when he was back in Yondu’s quarters. It was piled higher with boxes. The bed, at one point, had been cut open and no one had bothered to stitch the thing up again. 

Yondu was at his desk, sitting with his feet planted firmly on the floor. “I never knew you would take a drunk dial so seriously.”

Peter regarded him. “Take off your clothes, please.”

“Now?”

“Now, please. Notice how I said ‘please’? That’s how you ask people.” 

“Or you can dirty talk ‘em because you know it gets them hot.”

“Does it get you hot?”

Yondu slapped his knee. “Of course it does! It gets me going.”

Things slotted into place in Peter’s head. He came close to Yondu, who looked like he wanted to run but didn’t. Admirable. He grabbed his shoulders, leaned his head down so they were touching foreheads. “What if I called you the slut?” 

Yondu gaped. Then he closed his mouth and opened it again to say, “I’d find it wonderful. I’d be so into it, you’d have no idea.”

“I want to climb on top of you and fuck you like I’m an animal, like my brain is nothing but thirst inside my skull.”

“Yeah?” Yondu shucked his jacket off his shoulders.

“And I want to fuck you thoroughly.” Peter licked his lips. “Every inch of you. I want it.”

Yondu’s breath left his body all at once, it seemed. “All of it?”

“Of course all of it.” And Peter lifted him up by his shoulders and herded him toward the bed. He undressed, staring at Yondu all the while. “Come on, sweetheart.” 

“Boy, I’m old and I don’t have what you’re looking for, and--”

“Honey.” 

Yondu flushed.

Peter dropped his voice an octave. “Sexy.”

Yondu pulled his shirt over his head and unzipped his jumpsuit. He slid his underwear down, revealing a soft, blue, spongy cock. Just went Peter figured he had it all wrong, Yondu unbuckled the strap from around his waist.

“Just a stuffer.” Yondu was embarrassed. “In case I get strip searched. Or, I don’t know, caught in the bathroom.”

Underneath was what the Zatoan woman said, a smoothness interrupted by pubic hair. There was a creamy blue flare of skin at the opening, a funnel where, if there was reproduction involved, the Zatoan female would insert her reproductive organ, a thin tube with feelers on the end, and draw out the semen of the male.

Yondu would not look at him.

“Oh, Captain.” Peter breathed. “Can I see?”

“Last time I told a male in this quadrant to go nuts, he pushed my legs apart and just went at it. It hurt like hell, but he kept fucking. I didn’t want to look like a coward by asking him to stop.”

“Was it Kraglin?”

Yondu sighed. “I hit him good after. He was hurt by the whole thing. He thought it was what I wanted.”

“But it wasn’t?" 

“Nah.”

“You want the dirty talk, but you want the loving too, right?”  Peter crowded him onto the bed. 

Yondu fell back, looking mad. “What can I say? I’m a tender flower.” He let out a herky-jerky gasp when Peter massaged his pussy.

“I got your flower right here.”

“You cute motherfucker.” Yondu smirked and kissed Peter’s mouth.

Peter played with the folds a while. Yondu groaned and seemed to like that. There wasn’t any clit, though, which was disconcerting. It was all smooth.

“You got a nice bundle of nerves there for me to molest when you’re in the mood.” Yondu sighed, laying back. “Damn useful. Gets you all wet. You wearing a pussy today, boy?”

He snorted and got up on his knees. He indicated the bulge nestled there. “This look like a pussy to you?” 

Yondu’s smile became strained. “Sure doesn’t.”

“Hey, now. I ain’t gonna push it in if you feel like you can’t have it inside you.”

“I can do it. Don’t goddamn condescend to me.”

“All right, all right. I won’t think ill of you if you say no, though.”

Peter unzipped his pants and pushed down his underwear. His cock rose out, a firm and angry red. 

Yondu face was all cringe. “Aw, damn it. It’s hot like you but it’s got the wide thing at the top.”

“The dickhead?”

“Takes one to own one, I guess.” 

Even Peter had to laugh. “Don’t worry about it now.” He lowered his chin to the blue pussy in front of him.

“I don’t get wet. That’s the woman’s job. Her outie’s all slicked.” 

Peter fumbled in his jacket and pulled out a bottle of clear lubricant. “I’m sure you got some in your bedside table, but I like to be prepared.”

“You didn’t have to, okay? I got a whole tub. Got to work those thick, sweet rods in my collection inside me somehow.”

Peter laughed. Then he sealed his mouth over Yondu’s pussy. It had a chalky sweetness, like milk.

He responded with a dark, sweet moan. 

“Make some noise, slut.” Peter’s breath stirred his pubic hair. “I want to hear you while I tongue fuck you.”

Yondu was pleased. He groaned properly, thighs pressing against Peter’s ears. He was all pliant under him and Peter wished he had known to go down on the captain years before when he was still living under his roof. Certainly, his temper tantrums would have met sweeter ends.

Peter swirled his tongue inside and along the edges of Yondu. It really was a narrow slit, open and flexible, but not terribly stretchy. Peter worked his tongue along the opening until Yondu was nice and relaxed. Then he poured the lubricant over his pinky and teased him.

“Look at that sweet little hole,” said Peter. “You’re all nice and tight.”

“You saying that like it’s a good thing. It’s awful annoying.”

Peter pushed his pinky into him and was met with a loud groan. “I know, but it’s worth it to tease the whore out of you.” 

Yondu was utterly smitten with that. They kissed and Peter thrust another finger inside him. It took a while, but soon, Peter was sliding in his cock. It was a snug fit. Yondu had his eyes rolled back. He liked it but he was concentrating awful hard.

“It’s getting easier. I swear,” said Yondu. 

“Yeah? Wanna know why?”

“Feels like your cock’s just becoming a better fit.”

Peter thrust in and out quickly and Yondu was breathing hard. “

Oh, damn,” said Yondu. “This is so good.”

“You’re so good,” said Peter. “I want to use you like the cum rag you are.” 

Yondu was in pieces. “I’m gonna die. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Mm, you like that? You like the idea of me fucking you to the brink?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You do, slut. You absolutely do. You want this cock to fuck you until you’re broken and I’ll laugh and keep going. Fuck.”

“Oh, damn it.” 

“You’re slavering for it. You and your sweet pussy.”

“Fuck, boy.”

“You’re the only fuck boy here.” 

And Yondu came. It was a white fluid that bubbled out and up over Peter’s thrusting cock. He pulled out and came over Yondu’s heaving stomach. 

Yondu threw an arm over his eyes. “God damn. Marking your territory all over me.” He smiled. “I love it.”

“Then you’ll love it when we do it again.” Peter rubbed his softening cock. “Hold on. Just a few more minutes.” 

“That’s how fast you recover?”

“Nope! But I popped an anti-rad before I came over.”

“A what?”

Peter pulled his hand away, showing the cock as it grew smaller. His labial lips were puffing out nicely, too. “Your pussy is gonna meet my pussy.”

Yondu looked unsure again. “Think they’ll, uh, have a lot to say to each other?”

Peter smiled. He raised one of Yondu’s legs, putting him into a sort of pile-driver position. He slid his thigh along until his clit was pushed against Yondu’s opening.

Yondu let out a small gasp. “Oh! Okay. Yeah. They got something to say.”

They rubbed up against each other, Peter laughing all the while. He felt light headed. The friction was so fucking good, warm and wet with his cum and Yondu’s.

When Peter was at last exhausted, he lay down beside his old captain. He wasn’t sure if they would do this again, but this had been nice.

Yondu, gentled by a thorough fucking, rubbed his cheek tenderly. “Ain’t too bad having a pussy, I guess.” 

Peter grinned and let his eyes close. “Ain’t too bad at all.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to less than stellar circumstances, Drax finds out about Peter's changes.
> 
> No beta reader so all mistakes my own.

Of the gateway checks the crew of the Milano had to endure, the Gramosians were the very worst.

“I’m sorry, but due to the current political situation, a vessel that enters our quadrant must be manned by no fewer than four members of the male gender.” 

The snub-nosed face that filled the screen made Peter want to punch right through the ship’s monitor. As this was a repair he had no interest in paying for, he just sat with his mouth sealed and grew a deeper shade of red. 

Peter couldn’t blame Rocket and Groot for slipping off to the mess hall so they didn’t have to deal with it. Last time, Rocket had been asked a series of questions regarding his relations to women of other species. He told them exactly what he thought of their questions and the ship was held for hours.

Gamora’s glare at the screen was pure ice. “Your conservative government is obsessed with antiquated laws that never helped anyone. Your obsession with sexual organs is obscene.”

The Gramosian looked at Gamora with pity. “I would expect a woman to understand the act of honoring one’s traditions.”

“Your traditions are poorly chosen,” Gamora said simply.

“There’s no need for hysterics.”

Gamora was not hysterical but looked as bored as Drax did. “Yes. You are not worth that.”

The Gramosian guard seemed satisfied, as if he had won the argument. “May I please speak to one of the males on board?”

Peter exploded. “Here I am, man! A big, burly dude!”

The Gramosian guard hesitated. “Our medical records show an abnormality. With you.”

“Yeah, Nova Prime thinks I’m half Terran, half ‘something older.’”

“No. It shows you often do not have a penis. And then sometimes you do.”

Peter glanced at Gamora. She and Rocket knew. Drax and Groot did not. He cleared his throat. “The anti-radiation pills flip my junk inside out for a few days each month. That’s it.”

Drax startled. “I did not know this.”

“Because it’s private, buddy. And I shouldn’t have to say anything to anyone about it unless, like, I had an actual medical emergency or something.” 

After a moment, Drax nodded. “I understand.”

Peter was embarrassed but satisfied. He shot the Gramosian guard a glare. “Does this really even matter? What if a guy gets his dick cut off? Is he less of a man?”

“That is—Well, that has been discussed in our court system. There is some contention,” said the Gramosian. “But it, um, does not have any baring on this situation.”

Gamora had a wonderful scowl. Like a pirate, really. “Your entire planet is wrapped in madness.”

The Gramosian guard took issue with that. “Excuse me, but I tend to vote left, myself! This is just what the ruling government has chosen at this moment. My job is to uphold these laws and carry them out to the best of my--”

“If a man whose penis is gone is no longer a man in the eyes of Gramosians, then what of a man who has two members?” Drax asked.

Gamora and Peter turned to Drax at once.

The Gramosian guard stared. “Sorry?”

“There is a common birth defect on my planet.” Drax, to Peter’s horror, unzipped his fly. “I possess it. Some of my past sexual partners have, as well.”

Drax pushed down his underwear and a fat dick, ribbed with scarification tattoos, fell out above his waistband. It tapered at the tip.

Peter thought he might be lying for a moment, some sort of misdirection. Maybe he was even making fun of the Gramosian. 

But no, when Drax pushed down his underwear further, he revealed a second penis. It was as large as the first.

The Gramosian was still. “Do you have two sets of scrotum, as well?”

“Our scrotum are internal,” said Drax. His face was as expressive as a brick wall.

Peter turned to Gamora quickly. To his shock, she had her hand over her mouth, smothering her laughter. He could tell by the way her eyes creased and the small snorts she couldn’t keep from coming out of her nose.

How could she laugh? This was embarrassing, worse than having to describe the pussy he had once a month for a week.

The Gramosian man was far from embarrassed. Hell, his eyes were bright. “May I get my colleague so that he may examine your organs, as well?” 

“Of course,” said Drax.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Peter began.

“I don’t mind,” said Drax. “It does not bring me embarrassment.”

Face hot, Peter wondered about leaving for the galley himself. The cocks were fine, but Drax’s confident, blasé attitude about it was something he deeply envied. It kind of made him angry, to be honest.

The Gramosian guard left the screen briefly. He returned with not one but two other men. They, too, looked interested. One had a particularly glassy expression.

They began to ask him invasive questions about whether or not he peed from both, if he had ever had more than one partner at a time, and could he achieve an erection with both dicks at once.

The answers from Drax were: “Yes,” “No,” and “Yes.”

Peter didn’t always have a pussy, as he had informed the guard, but he did have one today. He was very aware of that as his muscles down there tightened. When this was over, he knew he would reach down and discover he was wet.

Peter wondered if Yondu was in the quadrant. With his luck, the rest of the Ravagers were likely sacking some ruins out on DX-M13. A call wouldn’t hurt, though, right?

“And it’s not a virus?” said one of the Gramosian guards. This guy looked like the last person who would have a medical degree. “You can’t pass it to other people, can you?” His eyes flicked over to Peter.

Gamora abruptly stopped laughing.

Peter frowned. “Seeing as how this is the first time I’ve heard about this, I doubt it.”

“But we should check!” said one of the Gramosians, excited. The screens didn’t show beneath their wastes and all Peter knew all at once they probably sported massive hard-ons. “It would help us with the checking process. You and the green woman.”

Peter’s stomach hurt.

“It would not,” said Drax. “That is untrue.”

“It’s up to you!” The first Gramosian at once became defensive. “We’re not pressuring anyone. We’re all adults.”

“Some of us are more adult than others,” Gamora said.

“Fine!” Peter fussed with his own zipper. “There! Awesome! Everyone can get a big look at the boy with the pussy!”

Gamora went pale and turned away.

Drax did not.

Peter peeled down his underwear, connected by a thread of cum, and spread his thighs. Dark, curly hair circled his wet folds.

The Gramosians gawked. “It’s very hairy,” said one.

“Not very feminine,” the second agreed.

Gamora muttered something about women in possession of hair, despite any suggestion to the contrary.

Peter was humiliated but angry. He pushed his hips forward. “Yeah? I keep it nice and unshaved. So people I’m with can grab onto it. And fuck it.”

“You imply you have had many lovers?” The Gramosian’s eyes fell on his junk, looking disturbed.

“Hell yeah, I have! Men, women, ungendered, tri-gendered, two at a time, orgies—few times, anyway.” Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Gamora, face still turned away, and Drax, expression blank. His heart hammered in his chest. “This spider woman once laid her eggs inside me and made me push them back out again.”

The third Gramosian had a strange smile. “Did she?”

“Yeah. I was fucked for ten goddamn hours and I cried and I sweat and it was amazing! That’s what you want to hear, right?”

The Gramosian made a noise and bit his knuckles. “So you can take a lot? Inside you?”

“What?”

“Would you be willing to demonstrate?” said one of the Gramosians. His eyes flicked to Drax.

Peter closed his thighs immediately.

“This ends now.” Gamora stood. “You will let us pass through the gate. Then we will file a report with Nova Prime stating your misconduct and strongly suggest she re-examine Xandar’s relationship with Gramos.”

“You mean we will let you pass or you will file the report, correct?” the first Gramosian said.

“No,” said Gamora. “I have recorded your reactions and will edit it according to the desires of my crew mates. Then I will send it to Nova Prime. That is all.” With her control panel, she turned off the screen.

Peter zipped immediately. “I’m sorry!”

Gamora rounded on him. “And why are you apologizing?”

“It is I who should be offering apologies,” Drax boomed. “I goaded them on. I wished to reveal their obsession with physical sexual organs. Thank you for recording, friend Gamora.”

“I appreciate that, but you shouldn’t apologize, either,” she said.

Peter nodded jerkily. He felt guilty, though, because now that the screen was off, he kept looking over at Drax, who had yet to cover himself. “Yeah. Just. Just edit that video and we can send it right away. Maybe we won’t have to wait more than a couple standard weeks for them to--”

Outside the ship, the gates opened.

As if he were in auto-pilot, Peter took hold of the controls and drove them through the port. When he looked up, Drax was tucking his cocks back into his underwear. Both were hard.

***

“You just call for ‘Daddy’ every time you want a good fuck, right, boy?”

“’Daddy’? The last couple times, that’s what you called me.”

“I don’t remember that!”

“It was near the end.”

“Oh, well, I say a lot of things, don’t I? But listen. I can’t help you with this one. We’re on lock down on Xandar until the heat passes. I got caught with some none too legal cargo and only Xandar seems kindly about the charges.”

“God damn it, Yondu!”

“Now don’t work yourself up into a lather! Damn, kid. We got something loosey-goosey, here, and you know it.”

“I know. But I just, I need this! I need something. No one’s out here but the crew. I’m not asking Groot to jerk me off.”

“Seems to me you better make a bridal night with your hand or else do what you know you actually want to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Two dicks? And he had a pair of half-chubs after he saw you? What are you, stupid?”

“He was forced to take them out! Those fucks were disgusting. What if he thinks I am, too?”

“If he wants you, and if you want him, I’m pretty sure your problem’s solved. Yondu out.”

The screen in the galley went black.

Peter groaned and put his head in his hands.

“What is your relationship with the blue captain?” Drax stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He was bare chested and had a sheen of sweat across his skin.

Peter jumped. Everyone else had been in bed for hours. “What?”

“What is the nature of your relationship with your former guardian?”

Peter had already shared everything else. Why not this? “We, well, we fuck sometimes? Like, it’s not serious. Just, you know, physical. There’s some complex feelings there, but if he decided to fuck Kraglin tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Are those the sorts of relationships you prefer?” In the half darkness of the stove top light, Peter could see Drax’s stony expression.

Peter shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never had anyone who wanted to stay.”

“Except us.”

He stared.

“The Guardians,” Drax clarified. “We have all stayed. With you.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “And I appreciate that. I-I love that. I love you guys.”

“Yes.” He stood in front of Peter, now. “I, too, feel this.”

Drax took him by the shoulders. Then he pulled him close, tight into an embrace. “I adore you, Peter Quill. I want and need you as well.”

Peter held him. “What happened today was weird.”

“I initially drew amusement from it.” Drax’s breath stirred Peter’s hair. “But it became a source of great embarrassment to you. For that, I apologize.”

Peter snorted. “I’ve shown my pussy to more than a few folks, I guess. Cock, too.”

“I meant your cum, the lubricant your body created for itself.” Drax pulled away. “The clear stuff from your body. That was what it was, yes?”

It was easy to lie to Drax—he took everything at face value. But after you tell someone you love and value them, it seemed like a bad time to do that. “Yeah. That’s what it was.”

“It was not from the Gramosians, I imagine?”

“No.”

“Was it because Gamora was there?”

“What? No! No.”

“Was it from me?”

Peter allowed himself to give Drax a small smile. “It was.”

Drax’s eyes glistened. “I am deeply flattered.” Then he leaned down and kissed Peter.

Most of Peter’s lovers had lower body temperatures than Peter did. Reptillian, sometimes. He wondered if humans hadn’t yet traveled such distances as folks in the Andromeda Galaxy because they craved the warmth of sunlight. The gulf between stars and their orbiting planets was vast.

But Drax tasted like an inferno. Searing. Good.

An extra moment of deliciousness: Drax grinding his hips into Peter’s, pushing his ass against the kitchen table.

When the big guy pulled back, Peter let his eyelids sit low. He sat on the kitchen table and widened his legs. “If you want, you can examine it yourself.”

“I would like that.” Drax sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. He pulled it up so he sat between Peter’s thighs.

Peter unzipped slowly. “You like pussy?”

“My wife did not possess one.” Drax watched, mystified as Peter rolled down his pants. “But I have been inside others with such. It has been nice.” 

“Love to give you a nice time.” 

“Yes. I would like to have one.”

“Help me get these off.”

Drax obeyed, helping him roll the pants down his ankles and off each foot. “Have you had a chance to wash since earlier?”

Peter stopped, his underwear clinging to his body with sweat. “No.”

Drax let out a throaty groan. “I’m glad.” He pushed his nose between Peter’s legs, right against the material of his underwear, and inhaled. His hot breath pushed through the fabric, the moisture making it wet. Warm.

His nose pushed against Peter’s clit.

Peter jackknifed his hips, rocking the table. The surface was hard against his back. He was getting up there in years and, oh, the aches and groans these days. “We should move elsewhere.”

“An excellent idea,” Drax rasped between his legs. “We eat here. Gamora and Rocket would be displeased. You’ll get the table all damp.” He gave Peter’s drooling lips a pinch through his underwear.

Throwing back his head, Peter moaned. “Please!” He meant, “Please back up so I can stand.”

Drax appeared to hear, “Please take me somewhere else,” as he took hold of Peter, put his hand beneath his knees, and the other one under his neck.

Peter was being carried like a bride. He cracked up. Noting the ground and its grimy tile, he said, “Let me walk, okay, there, buddy?”

From Drax’s blush, he seemed clearly enflamed. Peter could have asked him to tongue his ass and Drax would have done it, immediately and happily. As it stood, he put Peter down, but didn’t let go of his hand.

“The cockpit,” said Drax. “Come with me.”

Peter would have assumed a bedroom. Judging from the wetness gluing his panties to his pussy, he had no urge to complain.

“I want you to think about today,” said Drax as he hustled him up the ladder. “About the embarrassment.”

Peter withered. “Oh.”

“And how I will correct it.”

“I would really prefer not to think about those guys again, if it’s all the same to you,” said Peter. “They’re dumb fucks.” He didn’t stop climbing.”

“I doubt they fuck very much. Otherwise, they would not be so hungry to see sexual organs in states of arousal.”

Peter snorted. “It doesn’t matter who they are and aren’t fucking.”

“Good. Because they have nothing to do with this.” Drax stretched his arm out to the cockpit as if saying, “Behold.”

“What?”

“Behold, I will fuck you here and cleanse their influence from our ship!”

“What?”

“Hands on the glass.”

“What?”

“Hands on the glass, here,” Drax specified. He demonstrated. “I will fuck you with my girthy cocks until your slickness runs down between your thighs.”

“Oh.” He was already half way there.

Drax saw he didn’t move. “Is that acceptable?”

Peter nodded quickly. “Here?” He put his hands flat on the window beside Drax.

He was satisfied. “Spread your feet apart, too.”

Peter did so, finding himself spreading his fingers too, like starfish. That was silly, he thought. This whole idea in Drax’s head was pretty ridiculous. No one was going to take the cockpit or the ship from them, he thought. The Milano was his.

Drax stepped behind Peter and rolled the underwear down his buttocks, displaying it.

Peter let out a huff of breath as cold air touched his cheeks.

“How nice.” Drax cupped his ass.

“You can—um.” Peter was short of breath. The underwear wasn’t rolled all the way down, the material still touching his wet lips. “Pinch it. The way you did with my pussy through my underwear?”

Drax considered this. “You like some roughness in your lovemaking?”

Peter hesitated. “A little bit. Not, like, super rough. Yondu and I did a lot back when I was too young to know I could be all, ‘That’s enough,’ so I have a pretty high threshold—oh!”

Drax massaged Peter’s buttocks. “That does not sound ideal.”

“It wasn’t. There’s a reason we didn’t get serious. He’s fascinated with my pussy and my cock, but not really the person attached to it, you know?” The fingers kneading his buttocks did so carefully, a man unsure of his own strength, someone who has the experience to know he was built like a fortress while his partner was not. Peter’s eyes rolled back at the delicacy of the touch. “He’s okay. We’re friends.”

“I wish to be more than friends with you.” Drax gave him a spank.

Peter thrust his hips back. “Ah!”

“Is that to your liking?”

“Yes!”

“If it is not--”

“It is! It really is! Keep going!”

Drax spanked his bare flesh firmly. Playful. Curious. “Your buttocks jiggle.”

Peter pushed his heels back, widening his legs. He thought about reaching back to spread his cheeks, show him his hole. Anal felt different with a pussy but was still enormously pleasurable. But Drax had asked so nicely for him to keep his hands on the glass. “You like that?”

“I do.” Drax was in wonder as he paused from his ministrations.

Peter moaned for more, like an animal in heat.

He was greeted with the pleasant feel of Drax pulling down his underwear to his thighs. 

A thick dollop of his own wetness pulled away from his lips.

“More than earlier,” said Drax. Then he ran his finger along Peter’s inner thigh and then away. From the smack of his mouth, Peter realize he had tasted him. “How very good.”

“Fuck, man.”

“I will fuck you soon, yes. I promise.” Drax dropped to his knees behind Peter. Then he took those hips in his hands and pulled him close from behind, burying his nose in Peter’s cheeks, his tongue between his labial folds.

It was wet and thick, warm as it grasped for purchase between Peter’s pussy lips.

“Oh! Oh wow! Oh God!” Peter scratched at the glass for purchase and then went still again. His head was light.

Drax pulled away, leaving air and empty space where his pussy should have been fucked by that amazing tongue. “Are you religious?”

Peter sweat hard. He wished he had ditched his jacket and shirt in the kitchen, too. Let them both be naked for any passing ship to see. “Drax, no!”

“Explain again. Why do you pray?”

“Because this feels so good!”

“And?”

Peter wailed, needy. Furious.

“Perhaps you wish to express gratitude?” Drax has such a warm laugh. How could Peter forget how sweet and teasing it was? “Because that is what I wish to do. On my planet, one traditionally expresses thanks before a feast.” And Drax pushed his face in between Peter’s cheeks again and licked. He seemed to be slurping as well.

When Drax’s tongue touched his clit, Peter howled.

Pulling back again, Drax murmured. “You will wake the whole ship.”

“I’m sorry.”

Drax stood immediately. He pressed his lips, which were wet, to Peter’s ear, and his chest to Peter’s back. It was a kiss and Peter could feel his heart, thumping against his spine. 

Oh. Fuck.

When Drax spoke, Peter felt the smitten breath in his ear canal. “No apologies, please. Like Gamora said. Unless you wish to say ‘sorry’ because it brings you comfort.”

“Drax, is everything okay?” If Drax felt romantically toward Peter, it was news to him. How much more than friends did he want to be?

“Yes. Everything is almost perfect.” Drax ran his hand down Peter’s front. “I only meant to assure you that you feel no shame in your expressions of desire.” He cupped his pussy, fingering it roughly.

Peter keened, leaning back. He kept his hands firm on the glass. He was convinced if he didn’t do exactly what Drax asked, this would stop. It would go away. “What would make it more perfect?”

“Fucking you.”

“Yes.”

“Here.”

“Oh man.”

“Now.” Drax pushed down the zipper of his pants. His twin length pressed against the small of Peter’s back.

In his brain, Peter assumed one cock would be pressed inside him. Then the other. Then they would slip back to his room, grab some lubricant, and Peter would talk Drax through stretching out his asshole if he didn’t already know how. Rather than give him a play by play, though, all Peter managed was, “Go slow?”

“Of course.” Drax kissed the base of Peter’s neck. Then he lined himself up with Peter, and—

And.

And pushed both his cocks inside Peter’s pussy at once.

To his credit, it was done slowly. Achingly slow.

But oh, it burned. It was too much. It hurt.

Peter seized immediately. Keeping his hands on the glass took effort. “Fuck!”

“That is what I’m doing, yes,” Drax husked.

And it would have been so perfect and so sexy, except it was too much.

Peter could feel the sweat prickling his brow. Okay, if he concentrated, he could take this. He could do it. He had been surprised by partners before, right? The one with the eggs hadn’t really specified what she was doing. She had just told Peter she had a “surprise.”

“Your breathing is strained.”

“I’m fine! It’s fine.”

“Is this painful to you?”

The burn was kind of nice if he didn’t think about it, but not thinking about it was hard. “In a good way?”

“Peter?”

He ground his teeth together. “Okay! Okay, fine, this is past my limit.”

Drax pulled out immediately.

Peter felt empty. It was a relief. He shook. “I’m not a wuss, I just. You know. They thought I was a wuss today, right? That’s all.”

“Peter, do you wish to sit?”

He saw his hands were still pressed to the glass. When he removed them, there were sweaty handprints. Peter also found his underwear still around his thighs. He pulled them up, feeling deeply embarrassed. “Yes. Please.”

Drax did not zip up his pants. His cocks hung out of his zipper, perfectly flaccid. But wet from Peter.

Peter ached as he sat down in the captain’s chair. Drax, to his shock, did not sit in one of the other seats. He instead sat beside Peter, on the ground. He took his hand on the armrest and pressed the side of his face to it.

They sat in silence for a moment. Peter was too surprised to speak, too unsure what to say. Drax seemed contemplative with his eyes closed.

Finally, Drax let out a long sigh. “I made a mistake.”

“No. Listen. I need to get better at telling people this kind of stuff. I should have just said it was too much.”

“Perhaps, but we have lived in close quarters for a while, now. I should observe your behaviors better. I should know when you are in pain.”

“That’s not your job.”

“Neither was taking out my cocks and showing them to those men.”

Peter took Drax’s hand. He pressed a kiss to his knuckles and, despite his name, had never felt more lordly doing so. “I forgive you, if you need to be forgiven, man. It was weird.”

Drax’s eyes grew wet at once. “It was.”

“What you said about reclaiming the cockpit? It’s already ours.”

“Yes.”

“What do you say we go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“You feel like they made you dirty, right?”

“No. I am quite clean.”

“No, bro. In your mind. It’s like your mind is full of dirt. Like those idiots put it there.”

“Perhaps.”

“In a figurative sense.”

“Yes. One of those.”

“But in a literal sense, would it make you feel better to take a shower with me?”

Drax was enthusiastic about the idea.

The bathroom was small and, shared by five people, had a perpetually moldy smell.

He took the opportunity to remove his jacket and shirt, gazing at Drax all the while as he turned on the water. 

“Bath?” Drax whispered.

“Shower,” said Peter. “I’m going to soap myself up.”

He did, lathering his pussy, letting the suds run down between his thickly muscled legs. Drax looked down and admired. There wasn’t many other places for him to look as the shower was a tight squeeze for two grown men.

Drax pulled him into an embrace, his cocks firm once more, pressed against Peter’s belly. “You smell so good.”

“Thanks. We use the same soap, though.”

“Let me wash you.”

Drax was tender, slow. Protective. He ran his hands along Peter’s shoulders, chest, and in between his thighs. He didn’t enter him there. He was too reverent to do so. After he rinsed him off, Peter returned the favor by scrubbing the big guy’s back. He really got into the ridges tattoos.

The sigh that escaped from Drax’s mouth was all pleasure.

In Peter quarters, Drax laid him down, back to the mattress, and spread Peter’s legs. Instead of a sigh, he groaned. “The curls there?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re still wet.” Drax licked his lips and leaned down to suck on Peter’s clit once more.

Peter blushed and grunted as he was tasted and sucked. He tried to get ahold of himself, but the feel of the sheets on his drying skin, the tongue now probing into the folds, fuck. It was so thorough.

At last, after what seemed like hours of licking, and saving Drax from what Peter suspected to be a cramped neck, he managed, “I have lube.”

“Lubricant?” Drax looked up from between his thighs. His chin was wet with Peter’s juices. “So that both my immense penises may fit inside you?”

Peter’s toes curled and he bit his lip. He nodded and reached for the bottle, purchased at the last space station.

Drax took it from him as if it were some sort of holy relic. Then he took the bottle, opened it, and turned over the whole thing onto Peter’s junk.

The slide of the lube was wet and cold and Peter objected to the whole thing being used, but it was glorious. It absolutely doused his pussy and slid in between his ass cheeks.

“Just rub it into my asshole, Drax. Be careful. Pull it apart.”

“Of course! Yes!” But Drax crammed two fingers inside Peter’s sopping pussy and a third into his ass at once. He fucked him thoroughly with his hand until Peter was sobbing with need.

Then Drax inserted three fingers into his pussy and two into his asshole. Eventually, he stopped his ministrations to Peter’s vagina at once and concentrated on his sphincter.

Peter was soft and open when Drax finally sunk his first cock into his pussy and the other into his hole. He fucked him so slowly at first, too, that Peter was sure he would be driven to madness.

He locked his wrists behind Drax’s neck, pulled him down for a nice, fat, sloppy kiss. “Everything, buddy. Just push it inside.”

Drax raised an eyebrow. His face was prickled with sweat. This was taking a lot out of him, pleasing Peter like this. “I am still…ah…only a buddy? A platonic friend?”

“Lover. You’re my lover, buddy.” Peter leaned forward to kiss him again, impaling himself on Drax’s cocks.

“Your lover-buddy.” Drax began to drive into Peter slowly but rhythmically. He seemed to be counting with each thrust. “Do you mean your boyfriend?”

And Peter said, “Yes!” as he came.

***

Waking up with a boyfriend was cool. Like, Peter was genuinely happy to open his eyes and feel a mass of muscles beside him. His breath went in and out and his shoulders rose and fell with it. This wasn’t just Drax, this was a Drax he had gotten to know intimately. Something about that was ridiculously beautiful.

And Peter had never had a boyfriend, before. Fucking through half the galaxy was far and away from seriously dating. Why had he been so nervous about it? Relationships meant someone you adored, sex on tap, and someone who gave a fuck about you.

Then Peter looked down. During the night, his penis had grown back.

He felt the blood drain from his face. Yondu had fucked himself on Peter’s dick but he had been very particular, in the beginning, that it stay the hell away from him. What would Drax think?

He didn’t have to wait long. Drax rolled over, depressing the bed in the middle lightly, and opened his eyes. He looked at Peter blurrily before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

Peter stopped him. “Uh, just to be perfectly open with you, Drax--”

“You were open under me, last night.” Drax yawned. 

“And it was great, lover. Boyfriend.”

Drax preened to be called such. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“But just so I’m not holding any secrets from you, this is what I look like the rest of the time.” He motioned to his dick, now hanging between his legs. It looked particularly thick this morning, a healthy pink ready to get hard at a moment’s notice.

Drax said nothing.

Peter swore his heart stopped. “Is that acceptable to you?”

The intake of breath Drax made was strange, tight. “I wish to clear up any misconceptions there may have been, last night.”

Peter broke out into a sweat. Fuck. “Yeah?”

“For though I enjoy licking open your pussy, and tonguing your asshole, and then fucking your pussy and asshole with my fingers, and then pushing one of my penises into your soft, warm pussy and the other penis into your tight, beautiful ass, I wish that I would be allowed to do more.”

“More?”

Drax looked shame-faced. “I also wish for your penis to fuck me, both my mouth and my asshole. Perhaps from behind and between my thighs so that it may run beneath my cocks. My appetite for sexual intercourse involves a range of positions and, sometimes, implements--”

Peter kissed him. He pushed his tongue in to run along Drax’s, which had a certain bitter goodness to it. When he broke away, Drax looked thoughtful.

“I suppose we have much time to try positions we prefer and don’t?”

Peter pressed his forehead against Drax’s. “All the time in the world.”


End file.
